


Steve's his constant good

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comforting, Declarations Of Love, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, bucky has nightmares and steve comforts him, they love and care about each other so much it hurts my heart tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: '...he soon started sobbing. Big, heaving, quiet sobs that willed time to turn backward instead, willed that fall from the train and the white show that cushioned his broken body to be the final cold thing his innocent hands felt, instead of the alternative - instead of the hot throats turning colder, instead of the burning blood on his hands.Thankfully, the only constant was Steve. Without fail, every time he woke, Steve did too - almost as if he could sense the other’s breathing before Bucky could dwell on his nightmares, or let out another sob, Steve would sit up. His warm arms would wrap around him, and he would whisper gently into Bucky’s hair. ‘It’s okay, it was just a dream, Buck. It’s okay.’Bucky has nightmares and Steve comforts him.





	

Bucky watched the soft light fall gently through the air; dust dancing quickly in the brightness. He hadn’t slept much, too many nightmares had plagued him, cutting through the dark and piercing his mind, twisting time so that he forgot who he was, where he was, and everything else in between - he just became the soldier again. 

He woke with a start a few times, breathing shallow but ready to fight - the specifics of the dream had usually gone in seconds, but the remnants of that fear, of that urge to just harm, and hurt, that they instilled in him - were still there, still hidden deep in his mind, and always surfaced during the night, when he was the most vulnerable - maybe because he couldn’t try to fight it then. 

He was told that, in time, and after working with the right people to get help, that everything would just start to fade. And they had - nowadays, during the day, when he was awake - that was the case. But his dreams, or nightmares, (what was the difference, really?) were always about his past self, The Winter Soldier, and what he did, and could do, and even though Bucky Barnes tried to fight it as much as he could, he was completely helpless when every part of his brain could just roam free, through every single locked up memory, and create and recreate every single fresh hell for him, again and again - just so he could relive it in the dark.

Most of the time when his eyes snapped open, the final image of a screaming face, devoid of life, was printed in his eyesight, like a film still - like one final reminder of the terrors he had just slept through. 

He’d gasp a quick breath, willing everything away - but before he could even so much as get up, that first, desperate breath almost always unlocked some kind of damn within him, and he soon started sobbing. Big, heaving, quiet sobs that willed time to turn backward instead, willed that fall from the train and the white show that cushioned his broken body to be the final cold thing his innocent hands felt, instead of the alternative - instead of the hot throats turning colder, instead of the burning blood on his hands. 

Thankfully, the only constant was Steve. Without fail, every time he woke, Steve did too - almost as if he could sense the other’s breathing before Bucky could dwell on his nightmares, or let out another sob, Steve would sit up. His warm arms would wrap around him, and he would whisper gently into Bucky’s hair. ‘It’s okay, it was just a dream, Buck. It’s okay.’ 

Bucky would rest his head on Steve’s shoulder and cry messily, loudly, needing to let everything out, as Steve rocked him slowly and kept telling him that he was here, that it would be okay, and that it wasn’t real. ‘You don’t do that anymore. That’s not you, that’s him. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore, you’re Bucky. You’re here with me, pal. I’ve got you.’ 

That, or he would just hold him and they would breath together, until both their breathing slowed and they breathed together - in, out, in, out - until Bucky finally stopped shaking. Then, Steve would pull away gently and cup his hand around Bucky’s warm face, his blue eyes searching it with so much love. Sometimes he’d wipe away a stray tear, but he would always press soft kisses on Bucky’s forehead, nose and mouth until Bucky smiled, and they laughed quietly. 

‘I love you, Buck.’ He’d say, smiling too, and suddenly Bucky’s head would instead fill with memories of a young boy, age 16, grinning next to him on the street, at school, at the pictures, laying next to him when they shared his Mother’s bed in the cold and the dark - he was the constant in his dark life - Steve Rogers, with his love and his bright light and his always smiling. ‘I love you.’

They’d lay awake and talk about the dream. Steve would listen and offer reassurance, and Bucky would always drift off to sleep with the sound of Steve’s heartbeat in his ears, and his hand intertwined with his. 

Last night was no different, and he imagined that the soft dark circles under Steve’s eyes would match his. He asked him, late one night, why he always seemed to wake up at the same time as him when he’d had a nightmare. 

‘Because I can’t stand the idea of you hurting without me there to hold you, Buck. My subconscious must know that more than I do. I bet that’s why I always seem to wake up at the right time. That, and I love you.’ 

Bucky turned over in bed so that he leaned on his side in bed. He watched Steve sleep, watched how the muscles in his shoulders moved as he breathed in and out. He watched how that soft morning light before fell on a particular spot on Steve’s shoulder, just next to one of the sleeves of his white tank top, and Bucky thought it was so beautiful that he couldn’t help but shift forward and press a gentle kiss there. 

‘Morning.’ Bucky whispered in between another quick kiss to Steve’s shoulder, before Steve slowly moved to face Bucky, a blush and a sleepy smile on his face. 

‘Morning, Buck.’ He kissed him again, longer this time, and on his lips - but just as gentle. It was better now the dark was gone because there would be no more nightmares for a while. But it would always be okay because the one constant good in his life would be Steve Rogers. 

‘I love you, Steve.’

**Author's Note:**

> Steve and Bucky will always be one of my OTPs, so here's a quick fluff fic because I love them both so much. Hope you like it.  
> 


End file.
